


In Fine Corvum

by Dior_Dior



Series: Leather and Gold [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Denerim, F/M, Long, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 23:44:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14862578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dior_Dior/pseuds/Dior_Dior
Summary: Denerim.  Anora reveals herself to be a two-timing opportunist, and Zevran and Morrigan find themselves storming the castle to rescue Tabris and Alistair.





	In Fine Corvum

**Author's Note:**

> Capured! is one of my absolute favourite quests in Origins, so I was really excited to get to this point. It also signifies the home stretch. I inserted a 3rd person POV for Zevran/Morrigan this time, since I thought it was important and, due to the quest, very fun. There is still quite a bit to come in Denerim (hello, Taliesen??) so I will be posting multiple chapters to cover it all!  
> As always, all characters property of Bioware.

##  Leather and Gold 

###  [ Part 5: In Fine Corvus ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14862548)

#####  [ I. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14862548)

Life becomes very uncertain when you are a Grey Warden. 

But there was one thing, above all others, that I knew for certain. 

I wanted to wring Anora’s neck. 

“That bitch!” I exclaimed, not for the first time, and looked around. We were in Fort Drakon, and locked in the lower dungeons. The air was permeated with the smell of blood and the sounds of screams from poor sods who were either being tortured, had been tortured, or were about to be. Why, I could not tell--there was no determining whether this was Loghain’s doing, some remnants of Howe’s demented orchestrations, or they were legitimate traitors. I doubted they had done anything worth deserving the horror though. 

I had come to the dungeons willingly with Cauthrien, and Alistair with me. We were betrayed. Upon arriving to Denerim, Anora’s handmaiden had beseeched us to “rescue” Anora from Howe. And at the end of it all, she sold us out to his guards and we were thrown in here. 

Aside from the obvious, the “rescue” operation had been slightly cathartic in the process. It was now long ago that I had ended the life of Vaughan Kendalls, but there was some justice in his family’s estate being taken over. And then more so in eliminating that usurper as well. Rendon Howe was a tough man to kill, but he died like any other, cursing my name. If I never accomplished anything else, and my journey ended here, I would at least have the satisfaction of ridding Thedas of the most sadistic and evil man I had ever encountered. And hopefully ever would. 

That was if I ever got out of this prison. I cursed Anora again. 

“I am going to kill her!”

“Oh please, let me help you with that honour,” came Alistair’s voice from the corner, with a mirthless laugh. He had insisted on coming with us to “rescue” the Queen, and being who he was, was forced to the dungeons with me. I didn’t know who’s side Anora was on, besides her own. Whether or not she was actually in league with her father, Alistair’s existence was a threat to her rule. But couldn’t things have been accomplished the same with the Landsmeet? Everything was underhanded and dirty. I vowed that when we got out of here, I would ensure her ass never sat on a throne again. She would come to understand that playing a Grey Warden, and beyond that, betraying _me_ would have dire consequences. 

I sighed in frustration and rubbed my arms, where gooseflesh had started to rise. Obviously, they had stripped us of our weapons and armour, and we were locked together in a cell in our small clothes. The dungeons were musty and damp, though well lit by roaring fires. The dampness cut through the fires though, and behind the iron bars it was chilly. 

No guards were near us, and we talked freely about our next course of action, once we took in our surroundings. 

“Do you think we should try to escape?” Alistair said. 

“No,” I responded. “I don’t think that would be wise. At least not until tomorrow. Anora will go back to Eamon, and probably lie about what happened here--regardless, he will do something about it I’m sure.”

“I don’t think Zevran or Morrigan will let her get away with lying to Eamon, Bridget.”

I smirked at the thought of the two of them ratting her out. I wished I could hear what they would say. 

“I agree, but the result will be the same. We’ll still be in here, Anora will have no solutions, since this is more convenient for her, and Eamon will have to find a way to get us out of here.”

“He is a powerful man, but I don’t know how he could do that. Not with anyone knowing it was him, anyways.”

“You’re right,” I said. “Which means that our only hope is that our friends will rescue us.”

“And you think they will?”

I felt warmth blossom in my chest and thought of Zevran. Suddenly, I wanted him here desperately. I wanted to see him slink in the shadows, slitting the throat of all the guards who dared to imprison us, and then pick the lock of our cage, setting us free. 

“I…. know they will. Zevran won’t leave me--he owes me a debt, you remember.” I blushed. 

I turned to see Alistair looking at me with a slight smile on his face. My cheeks blushed slightly. 

“I hope you’re right,” he said, in a sing songy voice. 

“He will come for me,” I whispered.

* * *

Zevran’s hands were tied. Not literally. The last time his hands were tied, he had quite enjoyed it, and the beautiful woman that did the tying. This bind, however, involved watching the strongest woman he had ever met surrender herself to a misguided guard for the safety of another, who, in his opinion, should have been left to the wolves. 

They were given leave to exit the castle and they rushed back to Eamon’s estate. Anora was silent, as was Morrigan. Tabris’ hound whined pitifully, but kept with the group. Zevran had a million thoughts rush through his head but he held them all back. Voices told him to run the bitch through, to stop and demand answers, to force them to turn back and get the Warden (and even Alistair); every fibre of his being was being drawn back like a magnet towards Bridget, calling him to damn it all and find a way to free her, now. But he knew that would be futile. Cauthrien and her men were strong, and they very likely may have been all killed if Bridget hadn’t surrendered. They pressed on and he held his tongue. 

Eamon’s estate came into view and they hurried inside. The sun had reached its highest point about an hour ago, and he looked forward to nightfall when he could slip through the shadows earlier, should he have to. The group found Eamon in his study, and before anyone else could control the tide of conversation, Anora called out to him. 

“Eamon, I may have done a terrible thing!”

_That is putting it mildly_ thought Zevran, and he felt more rage begin to build inside. If she thought she could spin this and walk away blameless, she was more stupid than she thought. Did she think that because she was currently Queen, they would not point out her betrayal? 

“What in Andraste’s name has happened?” Eamon looked shocked, yet relieved to see Anora safe. But Zevran noticed his eyes rove around the room looking for the Warden and Alistair, and coming up empty. “Are you alright?”

Zevran refused to allow her to continue. “What’s this?” he asked, sarcastically, “she throws her saviour to the wolves, and _now_ she has second thoughts?” He kept his eyes on Eamon, who furrowed his brow. Much to his surprise, Morrigan added to his tattling.

“Barely met, and already she betrays us,” she said in her sultry tone, drawing out the words for dramatic effect. “She and my mother would get along famously.”

Eamon’s expression demanded an answer. 

“The Wardens have been captured,” Anora confessed, without elaboration. Morrigan solved that for her.

“Oh, but she leaves out the best part of this tale: the part where she threw us all at Loghain’s henchmen and ran!”

Morrigan was by far Zevran’s favourite person on the planet, but she was endearing herself to him in this moment. His rage subsided slightly

“I’m still waiting for a reason not to slit her throat and toss her in the river,” he said coolly. He looked at Anora with cold, hard eyes and she looked back with steely ones of her own, not flinching. This woman was dangerous. 

“I haven’t heard it yet,” he finished. 

Anora ignored the threats and explained that the Wardens were in the hands of Ser Cauthrien.

“Ser Cauthrien will take them to Fort Drakon.” She set her jaw and looked straight into Eamon’s eyes. “Getting in will be no small feat.”

Zevran chuckled. So that was her plan, they (obviously not _her_ of course) would now have to storm the castle to break them out. Anora would be blameless, in the eyes of the unknowing, in any scenario. If it weren’t Bridget he would have told her to jump off a bridge, but this was just the excuse he was looking for to get his lover back to safety. He instantly volunteered to head to Fort Drakon. 

Eamon still looked wary, but agreed, noting they should wait until nightfall. 

“And you should not go alone,” he said. 

“Lady Morrigan,” said Zevran, over honeying his voice with charm, “do you care to return with me?” He had a plan to sneak in, but he required her assistance. 

She waved off his tone, but agreed. There was excitement in her eyes, even though she sighed like he was putting a great burden on her. 

They waited until nightfall, then slipped out and hurried towards Fort Drakon. He briefed her on his plan, since he assumed she would have backed out earlier if she knew.

“You want me to pretend to be a delivery for the commander, for _personal_ reasons, with _you_?” she scoffed. 

“Morrigan, you wound me. Truly, I am not as bad as you might think. Many women would be happy to involve themselves in a ménage a trois with me...and men too.”

She rolled her eyes. He worried she would run back, but she kept pace with him. It was around suppertime when they entered the fort, and made their way to the first set of guards, who demanded their business. 

Without skipping a beat, Zevran explained that they were a special delivery for the commanding officer, and Morrigan did her part by puffing out her chest and cocking her hip. They sent them to a side room. 

Morrigan berated Zevran half-heartedly. 

“Fate truly has a sense of humour, that tale should have fooled no one,” she said.

Zevran mocked hurt. “How could they not be? I am a master of subterfuge.” 

“So, when you were beaten by our dear warden…” Morrigan said with an amused tone, “that was a demonstration of your great subtlety?”

Zevran could not think of a better retort so he simply waved the insult aside, saying “I understand if it is too subtle for you to grasp, dear Morrigan.”

She rolled her eyes and they were interrupted by a guard seeking their purpose. Zevran took over again, feigning surprise. 

“Surely your commanding officer tells you when he has items of a _personal nature_ delivered to him?”

“Ugh, no, I don’t want to know.” The guard looked disgusted and uncomfortable. He waved them past. 

“Go on in.”

They walked through the hall and another large chamber before entering a grand hall that was lined with giant ballistae. At the end of the hall was their object: a large stone door leading towards the barracks and dungeons. A tall, imposing woman guarded the door and they scrambled with a plan.

“We could use the ballista?” Zevran noted. Even he realized his formerly foolproof plan wasn’t going to work on the woman. 

Morrigan sighed, exasperated. 

“Let me handle this,” she said, strolling up to the woman, who eyed her warily and asked what they wanted. 

“So,” Morrigan began slowly, roaming her eyes around the room and examining the woman head to toe. The gaze could have unnerved the most stouthearted of guards, and the woman looked uneasy. 

“This is your lot in life,” Morrigan continued. “Are you satisfied? They task you with standing here. For hours,” her voice became more scathing. “All day, perhaps? What a life you must lead. Full of _wonder_ and _excitement_.”

The guard took stock of her words and eased her position. Zevran half-wondered if the witch wasn’t hypnotizing her with some sort of strange wilds magic. Whatever it was, it was taking effect.

“No doubt,” Morrigan’s voice changed, and she sounded as she was pondering, revealing a great secret, “that your masters prefer that you never think on it. Better that their peons continue to _think_ themselves free.” Her eyebrow raised and a hint of a smirk played on her lips. The woman had fallen for it.

“You have a point!” the guard said. A furrow creased on her brow and her voice raised with indignance. “This isn’t what I had in mind when I signed on with the army.” She gestured to the doors, and the group of men in the hall she routinely babysat. “Someone else can guard this blasted door, I’m going to go live my life!” 

Zevran was astonished as the woman left her post, and Morrigan rushed through. No one seemed to notice. Once past, Morrigan spoke again.

“Best prepare for battle, no one will believe we belong here.”

And she was right. The next several corridors were filled with guards who were entirely unreceptive to their presence. Morrigan shapeshifted into a horrific, giant spider, and Zevran looked on with a satisfied horror when she sank her fangs or spat venom into a terrified victim. 

She transformed back when they were near the dungeons. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” she reprimanded Zevran, who had a slight grin on his face.

“Morrigan,” Zevran said, “I don’t know when you are more poisonous, when you are spitting actual venom at men or simply cutting into them with your venomous tongue.”

She chuckled quietly, and they opened the door leading to the dungeon.

* * *

I don’t know how long we waited. Time seemed to stretch indefinitely and yet not pass at all. I almost thought about seducing a guard to get us out of there but realized it would be much more satisfying to drain the blood out of him than simply knock him unconscious. And I refused to give up hope that help was coming. I chased the ideas from my mind, and sat on the hard floor, saving my strength and energy. 

Surprisingly, we were given a cup of water each and a shank of meat at one point. 

“I guess if they’re going to torture us, they at least want us to have a full stomach,” I said, and Alistair laughed. 

“I wonder if this means it’s evening now,” he said. We had struck out for Anora in the early morning, and were taken as prisoners around noon. 

More time passed, and the quantity of guards lessened. It was definitely night now, and some of the fires were stoked for added heat. A couple of the guards slept surreptitiously, and the rest seemed to be half asleep themselves. Now and again a superior would come and reprimand them, but then they ultimately fell back into the same pattern. I closed my eyes but could not sleep; the floor was entirely too cold now, my whole body was an ache, and I was restless. Alistair appeared the same way. 

The dungeons were very quiet, and I swore I heard the door at the entrance open. I tried to see, but I could not. I poked Alistair, and held my finger to my lips to motion him to be silent. Suddenly, the guards were on alert and we saw them rush towards the stairs. My heart skipped a beat and I held out hope that it was someone on our side, coming to rescue us. A guard rushed to our cell, blockading it with his body and axe. 

Then there he was. Zevran, followed close behind by Morrigan, waltzed towards the guard. The guard yelled out a battle cry and rushed forward towards the assassin. Zevran deftly stepped aside at the last second, before twisting around and plunging a dagger into his neck. The guard fell down and twitched twice before he was motionless. 

I was right, it was much more satisfying to see the blood drained out of him. Morrigan removed his keys and tossed them to Zevran, shouting to me that we must hurry out of here. 

The cell door swung open. 

“Ah, my dear warden. Did you miss me?”

I rushed forward to clutch his neck, and drew him in for a kiss.

* * *

We were safe in Eamon’s estate once more, and though an audience was requested from me with Anora, I refused until I got a good night’s rest and a long, hot bath. The large feather bed in my designated quarters would see me to the former, and Zevran was helping me with the latter. A giant tub had been filled with water and scented oil and enchanted to remain hot and bubbly. I sank into it and felt the aches and pains unravel while the stiffness in my muscles melted away. Zevran had snuck into my chambers and slipped into the hot tub beside me. I did not send him away.

“You didn’t answer me, you know.”

“What?” I didn’t recall him asking me a question. 

“I asked you if you missed me. Well, did you?” A cocky smirk appeared on his face, but I could see in his eyes the hint of worry. Whether he was worried about my answer, or this was belated fear for my safety, I couldn’t tell. 

I smiled softly, and looked into his eyes. Pulling myself towards him, I knelt in the tub between his legs, sitting back on my heels. 

“Well, you know,” I said, “when I wasn’t worried I was about to be tortured or given to the Mabaris as a live dinner….” I cast down my eyes and my voice trailed off. 

Zevran was taken aback; he thought he had offended me. 

“Ah, Bridget, I’m sorry, I--”

I looked back up at him and said in a small voice, “Of course I missed you.” I leaned forward and kissed him gently. “I spent the majority of the time wondering all the different ways you were going to kill everyone to get to me.” 

Zevran let out a laugh and I felt it rumble through his chest. He pulled my kneeling form towards him and kissed me deeply. 

“Believe me, _bella_ , there was never a group before that saw such finesse. I do believe that something overcame me, thinking about you...perhaps it is...ah, I do not know.” He stumbled on his last words and I swore I saw a blush rise in his cheeks. “And,” he continued “I will have you know that you just have to say the word and Anora’s fate is sealed...I have a special poison saved just for her. Or I should say, Morrigan does.”

I laughed, not sure what exactly he meant, but dismissed the idea. Anora was too much of a player at this stage in the game for us to do something as foolish as assassinate her. 

“Besides,” I said, “if anyone is going to do that bitch in, it’s going to me.” 

“Oh, I do love it when you talk like that,” Zevran chuckled. 

I laughed with him, but the reality of the past 24 hours was crashing over me in waves. I had been betrayed, imprisoned, and jailbroken, and it was just going to get busier from here. There had been a very real threat to the end of my life, and though I was now geographically closer to them more than ever, my family didn’t even have a clue. I choked down the lump forming in my throat and kept my eyes downcast, willing tears not to form. I was stronger than this, and getting emotional would do nothing, solve nothing. And yet, it was all I could do not to curl up inside his arms right here, and beg for him to comfort me. I sniffed, and the sound betrayed me to Zevran. He tilted my chin and looked with concern into my welling eyes. 

I tried to joke it off. “I think-- I think the job is just getting to me a little bit.” I rubbed my eyes to rid them of the forming tears. 

“ _Amore_.” Zevran took my hands away, and kissed them. Then he dropped them and kissed my lips instead. He stood and left the tub, fetching a towel to wrap around his waist, and a second that he carried back.

“Come,” he said, and helped me stand, then held the towel with outstretched arms, wrapping it around me when I got out of the tub. Gently, he guided me towards the large bed. Shivering, I hurried under the quilt, mostly dry but for my hair. He sidled in on the opposite side and pulled me to his chest, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. 

“Thank you,” I said.

He looked quizzical. 

“What for?”

“For coming for me...you didn’t have to, you could have escaped from Denerim, from me, from everything, but you didn’t. I would probably be waiting execution right now if you hadn’t.”

“Ah, come now, I still owe you a debt,” he said, teasing. His voice lowered and he continued softly, “There is no place I would rather be than at your side...and if I have to break you out of prison in order to do so, then so be it.”

_I love you_ , is what I wanted to say, and what I wanted to hear, but there was an undeniable hesitation to his voice that stopped me. He was raised in a land where sex was currency, and lives were bought and sold daily. Unless he said it first, I couldn’t trust him completely, as much as I wanted to. 

Held firmly in his arms, I breathed in the scent of his skin and relaxed, easing into a deep, restful sleep.

* * *

I awoke late, and hastened to break my fast before meeting with Anora. Zevran had stayed with me all night, but left when I woke, parting me with a kiss and wishing me luck. I sighed. Falling asleep and waking up with the same man every night, keeping my lover as my constant companion, being loved by my best friend--was it too much to ask? 

I ate a hearty plate of eggs, sausages and potatoes with some apples and a cup of steaming hot tea. It was the best meal I had eaten in recent memory, and I lamented when I was finished. Begrudgingly, I made my way to Anora. 

The flaxen-haired queen was impeccably groomed and dressed, and exuded an air that intimated her superiority. Honestly though, I was not cowed. Though she was royal by marriage, this woman’s true advantage was strategy and her ability to use others as a pawn. I did not bow or bother to be overly polite, and cut off any attempts to speak about the events of the day before. Right now, all I cared for was the Landsmeet. 

Considering her betrayal, her request was laughable. I did not laugh though. 

“I’d like your support in the Landsmeet,” she demanded. 

Though there were many choice phrases I wished to retort with, and I knew there was nothing she could say to convince me to support her, I didn’t think letting her know this would be to my advantage in any way. I wasn’t even sure if she was my ally or enemy, and letting her know the cards in my deck was not a good idea. Feigning interest, I asked her about her background, about her opposition to Alistair, and about the late King Cailin. 

I really didn’t think she had any hand in the events of Ostagar, and I didn’t believe that her father’s madness was influenced by her in any way. Though she benefited more than most, these weren’t her orchestrations. But, aside from her marriage, there was no reason she needed to stay on the Throne. I didn’t get the impression that she was interested in the wellbeing of the country more than I got she simply didn’t want to have her position as Queen ended prematurely. I had to think to the future though. Alistair had some radical ideas, was of the Theirin bloodline, and could truly make some differences for the minorities and subjugated citizens of Ferelden. And, having already have thrown us into jail once, I wasn’t interested in discovering how she would repay our support if she managed to remain queen. 

None of this I revealed through words or expression, and put on a straight, serious face. 

“You may very well be our best option, Anora,” I said. “I will support you in the Landsmeet, but I hope you will not forget your Warden allies.”

“Thank you, Warden. You remind me, there is another favour I would ask of you, though I think you would find this interesting yourself, being...well, as an Elf.” 

I raised my eyebrows and she continued. 

“There is something going on in the Alienage, something is wrong. I have had to quarantine the entire area. I think it’s something my father is behind. If you can prove that he is, it will help dismantle any argument he brings to the Landsmeet for himself.”

She truly was a cold bitch, but then again, her father was a madman. My heart skipped a bit when she mentioned the Alienage. Favour for her or not, I was willing to risk some peril to enter it once again. She explained the situation in as much detail as she could, and told me she had informed the guards to give me leave to enter the Alienage at will. 

Leaving her, I called together my companions, informing them of what had just transpired. 

“Surely, you’re not going to put her on the throne,” Alistair asked. “She’ll go back on her word as soon as the Blight is dealt with!”

“Of course not,” I said, “but she is better to us for the moment as an ally than an enemy, so until the Landsmeet, I will let her believe she has our support. Right now though, we need to enter the Alienage. There is some sort of sickness being spread, and Loghain may be at the root of it.” Then I spoke quietly to Alistair alone. 

“Alistair, I would like you to come with me. Not simply because it is important but...when you are king, I need you to understand how citizens like me lived every day. I believe that you will be a good ruler, that you can enforce change that will benefit Ferelden, but you need to understand.” He nodded and I smiled at him, grateful. 

We made ready, and headed out for the Alienage.


End file.
